


This Is The Place

by MeredithBrody



Category: NCIS: New Orleans
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Real Events, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Terrorism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 06:50:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10985637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeredithBrody/pseuds/MeredithBrody
Summary: A terrorist attack in her new adopted city causes Merri to suffer flashbacks to her own traumatic past.





	This Is The Place

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I know it’s been a while. I wrote this in response to what happened here in Manchester just over 24 hours ago. I’m right here, right in the city, this happened in a place I frequent. That’s when I remembered that I have a fic that I could tie this into. This is largely written, in a way, for me to think about my own issues with flashbacks, only mine are to the last bombing here in Manchester in 1996. I was 8 years old. Still the sound of tinkling broken glass sends me into a panic attack. 
> 
> Most of all, I want to dedicate this to the people who died last night in my city. Georgina, John, Megan, little Saffie and all those yet to be named. I’m so sorry hate did this to you. Manchester will never forget you.
> 
> The poem mentioned is “This Is The Place” and was performed at tonight's vigil. It is also the inspiration for this fic's title.  
> Shin xx

__ Glass falling.  
__ Echoes of an alarm.  
_ Voices.  
_ __ Dust.

_     For an instant she didn’t know where she was, pushing herself up again she remembered what had happened. Remembered where she’d been. Remembered what had been said before the noise had ripped through the world and ended everything that had been being spoken about. _

__ _ Somehow she was certain that this moment was never going to end. She looked around, the people who had been thrown to the ground by this explosion. Her hands were still bound, but she couldn’t see the men who had been keeping her captive for the last several days. Not knowing where they were put her even more on edge. _

__ _ Then came the uniforms, more shouted words that she didn’t understand, that she couldn’t hear. Lip reading had never been her forte, and in her mildly disoriented state she wasn’t sure that she would be able to understand them anyway. She spoke, her name, her title. That she was a captive, kidnapped. But she never knew if the words came out. she couldn’t hear herself. All she could hear was ringing. _

* * *

Merri was quiet, she knew that. Today had just been a rough day. First responders often had to deal with this, she’d done it before, she’d do it again. Today just seemed worse. More vivid. Maybe it was the age of the victims, maybe that this was the first attack she’d attended to since Afghanistan. Maybe it was that she'd finally started to view Manchester as much as a home as Battle Creek or New Orleans had been. Six hours earlier she’d finally stood down, after almost 48 hours on duty voluntarily, but she hadn’t been able to sleep. When she closed her eyes she was there again. The victim.

She was still technically on maternity leave, Millie was only a few weeks old but after hearing the explosion she hadn’t been able to stay at home. James had agreed to stay with the baby, she’d rushed to help wherever she could. This was what she was good at, this was why she was hired. Never in a million years did she think that exactly a year after she had tried to take her own life she’d be out here helping people to survive through to another day, caught up in an even that nobody could plan for, and nobody could really prevent.

Like everyone, when she’d had chance she’d took stock, looked around to see where she might be needed next. Being told to go home she’d felt like she’d done a good job, that she may have helped save some lives, but she couldn’t leave. She’d stayed in the city, watching as all the amazing citizens of the cosmopolitan city proving they weren’t afraid. Standing at the back of the crowd for the vigil, she felt a pair of arms snake around her and recognised the smell of her husband. “What you thinking about, Merri?” He asked quietly, and she smiled seeing that he’d brought their eight-week-old along with him. 

“Bad dreams, memories.” She said quietly, not wanting to be overheard by the people around her. She turned slightly to kiss James’ cheek and focus on his presence and his support. Merri needed that, and she was happy that he didn’t pull away until she did. Only then did he untangle his arms from her waist and step around to where their baby was crying for some attention. As he did that she knew that she needed not to let these thoughts win. She wasn’t alone this time. “It’s nothing, I’ll be OK.”

“Here, hold Millie.” James smiled, and he clearly knew that that was another way to centre her, she took their daughter and rested her on her shoulder, kissing her head gently as she swayed, just waiting for James’ next comment. “Pride called, I said you were out working, he said he’d be here tomorrow.” That didn’t surprise her. She knew that he’d had some rough times recently too, and they still spoke most days and she considered him her best friend. Of course he would be one of the first people to decide he was coming to visit after hearing about what happened. But she didn’t know what to say, so she just smiled and kept rocking Millie slowly. At which point James’ arms snuck around her again and he whispered into her other ear. “Wanna talk about it?”

“When I was busy… I could forget what I’d been through, ignore the flashbacks, ignore the anxiety and the unease.” That was the only way she could describe how she felt right now, it hurt, it was painful. She remembered it all so clearly, and the thoughts weren’t going away. They were there, and she knew. She knew how all the victims felt, she knew how the witnesses felt. Most of all… she knew how the survivors felt. “Now that’s all I can think about, and I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to remember how much it hurt, and I don’t know how to cope with this.”

“We’ll get through it together, MB. I promise.” That was all she really needed to hear. James was here to support her, and to keep her grounded. Remind her that she wasn’t back in that war-torn village, but in a city that had recovered from tragedy before. There was a pride she hadn’t expected to feel as she listened to the poem about the city, and she felt the glow of belonging when people calling the city home were both those born here and those drawn here. Merri was proud of her new home, and she was proud to be part of helping it to heal.


End file.
